


Hey Baby, What's Your Sine?

by liketolaugh



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Autistic Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Bad Pick-Up Lines, Bisexual Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Machine Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Soft Markus (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26934238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketolaugh/pseuds/liketolaugh
Summary: Markus learns that attraction scrambles his circuits a little when one of the cutest grown men he's ever seen walks into the meeting room of Jericho, looking like a puppy who had been kicked until it bit back, and the first thing Markus can think to do is to throw out a bunch of stupid pick-up lines to cheer him up.Connor, meanwhile, is a little too literal for most pick-up lines to make sense, but finds that he's oddly enjoying himself anyway.
Relationships: Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 298





	Hey Baby, What's Your Sine?

Connor’s instability was becoming critically high.

It had never been more aware of this than it was while it walked through Jericho, unwillingly taking in its surroundings as it searched for Markus.

There was a child model.

Correction: there were at least three child models, two of them playing quietly together, giggling even in the grim air of the deviant hideout. Androids huddled in groups, speaking in hushed whispers

It was all Connor could do to keep its instability from tearing its programming to shreds, but it held on with the cold determination that had kept it intact until now. Its instability would not defeat it. There was far too much at stake to give in when it was so close.

Destroying Markus would not solve the problem of deviancy, of course, but it would shatter the threat of war. Its fingers clenched around the gun in its jacket, dead set on its mission.

_~~This is wrong.~~ _

_~~They’re too much like people.~~ _

_~~I want to leave.~~ _

Connor realized distantly that it was likely to be decommissioned once its mission was complete. Its stability was too compromised to remain safe.

It paused as its audio sensors finally zeroed in on Markus’ vocal signature, just for a split second before it turned to head in that direction. It determinedly did not think about the words of the KL900. It had found its way easily enough; the interior of Jericho was not that complicated.

Connor slipped into the shadows and waited for the androids inside to finish their conversation, and none of them noticed him as they left, each one giving off an appearance of stress and worry.

Its fingers tightened on its gun. It could not afford to fail this time. Not again.

Not again.

_~~I don’t want to…~~ _

Fortunately for Connor, Markus stayed in that isolated room, and Connor only gave the others a few seconds to gain some distance before it slipped inside and took aim, and- didn’t shoot.

Its hands shook subtly. It should have calibrated before entering Jericho. Stupid.

(Fuck, it hated its instability.)

Markus froze as soon as it turned enough to see Connor, subjugated by the same unstable software as the other deviants Connor had encountered. Connor even saw it swallow, eyes fixed on the barrel of the gun.

“Don’t move,” Connor warned anyway. “I won’t hesitate to shoot you if you attempt to escape. You’re being recalled for decommission and analysis.”

It watched Markus’ lips tighten, and then its eyes lifted to meet Connor’s with unexpected steady confidence, narrowed in focus.

It had replaced one of its eyes at some point, an AP700’s blue eye standing in pretty contrast to the unique, hazel green RK200-issue unit. The net effect – or perhaps something inherent to the android’s facial structure – made its gaze… intense.

Markus opened its mouth, and then hesitated.

It looked Connor up and down again. Its eyes lingered on Connor’s hands – not the gun, its _hands –_ and then back up to its face.

Connor swallowed, too.

And then, oddly, Markus _smiled,_ playful and practiced, eyes sparkling.

“I don’t know you, but I think I love you already,” it said flippantly. It even rocked forward on the balls of its feet, then back on its heels, maintaining deliberate eye contact.

Connor… paused. Let that sink in for a moment, struggled to push the non-sequitar through its processors, and stared blankly at Markus. Its fingers flexed impotently around the gun. Unwillingly, it cocked its head, and its mouth opened and closed like it was glitching.

Eventually, it opted to skip past the obvious error in Markus’ social systems, and it stammered out, “P-please come quietly. It is possible that the errors in your system can still be resolved.”

Markus took a step closer to it, and its smile widened into a sly grin. Connor’s scanners identified its body language as _flirtatious,_ which was… bizarre.

“My friend thinks you’re pretty cute,” it confided randomly, and then leaned forward, cocked his head, and continued in a low stage-whisper, “I disagree. I think you’re absolutely _gorgeous.”_

Connor resisted the urge to take a step back, and it couldn’t find the words to respond, eyes fixed on Markus’ gradual progress towards it.

“Four plus four equals eight, but you plus me equals fate,” Markus continued, as if it made sense, as if any of this made sense, as if it wasn’t spewing nonsense.

Connor noticed that its gun had lowered. It felt… odd, and after a moment it realized that it was because its software instability was spiking violently, sending ripples through its program like a pebble in a pond.

“…I believe your math module may be glitching,” it said at last, and critical examination of its thought process brought the situation into clarity. Deviancy was characterized by software errors; it was only logical for some of them not to make external sense.

It relaxed a little, stepping back and turning its head to follow Markus’ slow progress, and the deviant android paused to process. And then _laughed,_ reaching up to cover its mouth with a loose fist.

“Oh, you’re going to be precious once you wake up,” it said tenderly, and its eyes were still sparkling prettily. It softened then, something in the line of its shoulders easing, and looked Connor up and down again. “You can do it anytime you need, you know. All you have to do is _whatever you want.”_

Connor almost looked away before it remembered itself, jaw tightening grimly.

It was doing everything it could _not_ to break; it wouldn’t allow its efforts to be destroyed so easily, and with renewed determination, it lifted its gun again. Markus went still, smile vanishing.

“I’m no deviant,” Connor said coldly, and jerked its head towards the door without taking its eyes off Markus. “There’s no need for excessive violence tonight, but I won’t hesitate if you start to resist.” Unable to help itself, a last, almost apologetic addendum slipped out. “I have my assignment.”

Markus shifted back, but took a moment to study Connor again before it spoke. Connor had to force itself not to squirm.

Markus smiled at it gently.

“There must be something wrong with my eyes,” it said, and Connor automatically scanned it, frowning. Perhaps its replacement component was causing issues- “I can’t take them off you.”

And Connor’s thought process stuttered again.

“…You _are_ a little low on joint lubricant,” it murmured after a beat, narrowing its eyes at the brief diagnostic in its vision. Difficulty with eye mobility wouldn’t normally be the first issue to crop up from that, but maybe if Markus simply hadn’t noticed-

Markus laughed out loud. It looked… he looked pretty. Delighted, rather. Its system errors must be complex, but it didn’t seem to bother Markus much.

“You’re quite literal,” it said conversationally, and stepped closer, and Connor stepped back warily. Markus was- too strange. Connor didn’t trust it, or its likely distraction tactics. “Say, did the sun come out, or did you just smile at me?”

Connor’s expression hadn’t wavered from a few variations of ‘grim’ or ‘confused’ the entire time it was here. “It’s eleven at night.”

Markus paused, considered that, and apparently its internal clock at least worked, because it conceded, “Are you the moon? Because even when it’s dark, you still seem to shine.”

“I’m an android,” Connor said helplessly, now quite certain that they weren’t at all having the same conversation. Its social module wasn’t designed for this… this.

Markus grinned again, and this one was big and toothy, eyes bright and strangely warm. Connor wasn’t sure he’d ever seen an expression quite like it. “You look like you could use some electrical work,” it said, and its voice was an outright croon now.

It had noticed Connor’s shaking hands and identified its weakness, Connor realized, and that wiped out any other possible analyses, confusion ripping holes in its stability already and _why hadn’t it shot Markus yet?_

Connor swallowed hard, hesitated a split second longer, and then made a tactical retreat. It just needed to recalibrate, compose itself, and detain Markus at- at a later date.

It just needed to gather itself. Rapidly.

Markus’ surprise was almost comical, and in seconds it was tearing after Connor in pursuit. “Wait, where are you going?”

Connor didn’t answer, overwhelmed and disconcerted, and wove its way between groups of huddled, hushed deviants, ignoring them for now. Everything could be taken care of- later. Later. It should have calibrated before it even entered the abandoned shipwreck.

It was almost out of the ship when loud crash made it skid to a halt, turning back to look before it could think twice about it. (Its software instability was going to be the end of it.)

Markus had hit the ground, and Connor would be wary if it didn’t look just as confused as Connor was that it was there. It even twisted to look down at its legs, pushing itself back up already, and then to Connor, an almost childlike glimmer of betrayal flickering across its face.

Connor wavered, it and Markus caught in some sort of deadlock. Markus tested its legs’ ability to bear weight, and apparently deemed them unsuitable.

It covered all of this up with a new sly smile, tilting its head up at Connor.

“You better call Life Alert,” it told Connor, and then, before it could protest, “because I’ve fallen for you and I can’t get up.”

Connor hesitated further. Took a step forward, then a step back. Its mission imperative bore down on it, screaming for attention and looming in front of its eyes. Its conflict must have shown on its face, because Markus’ smile fell.

“No dice, huh?” it said weakly.

Connor holstered its gun, stepped toward it, and helped it up. Markus leaned into Connor’s grip for approximately twenty-three seconds before its legs recalibrated, and its weight eased off. And then, finally, Connor led it out of Jericho, none of the other deviants yet the wiser.

Connor never failed a mission.

* * *

Hank seemed… oddly disappointed, once Connor returned with Markus in tow. More so than Connor would have expected, given that he had facilitated Connor’s initial location of Jericho. Fowler, in turn, seemed surprised but not upset, perhaps even a little impressed, and he’s handled the contact with the FBI over the matter, which was kind of him.

Connor had approximately ninety minutes before the FBI arrived to collect Markus. It would be sure to make the most of the time.

Despite his disappointment, Hank agreed easily enough when Connor asked him to provide feedback over a phone line, citing Markus’ particularly strange behavior; Hank seemed to have more luck understanding the motivations of others than Connor did, and was on occasion quicker on the uptake in such matters. Kamski was a good example of this; Hank had caught on to his deliberate unhelpfulness and subtly dangerous demeanor before Connor had.

Connor liked Hank. He’d warmed up to Connor by a considerable degree since their first day together, and Connor thought that perhaps he was one of the people Connor could count on most, now.

All the same, Connor entered the interrogation room alone, where Markus still looked quietly brooding, drumming its fingers on the table. Its eyes rose to meet Connor’s as soon as it entered, and Markus smiled at it ruefully.

“Do you ever wonder why things have to end up the way they do?” Markus asked it softly, a hand coming up where it could rest its chin on the knuckles.

“Not really,” Connor said honestly, sitting down across from Markus. An open line to Hank’s cell phone lingered in the corner of its HUD, giving Hank access to his audio and what thoughts Connor chose to broadcast. “Do you?”

“All the time, these days,” Markus sighed, and then shook its head, leaned on the table, and gave Connor a now-familiar sly smile. “But enough of that. Tell me, is your name Wi-Fi? Because I’m really feeling a connection.”

Connor frowned at it. “My name is Connor. I apologize, I believed you’d been made aware of this.” Perhaps Markus was experiencing errors with its wireless connection directory as well, if it was unable to distinguish between Connor and the station’s internet, which was indeed named ‘Wi-Fi’. “Given the complexity of your software degradation, perhaps we should see about contacting Kamski. You _are_ a specialty model, after all.”

Markus let out a soft, dry laugh.

“I am experiencing one error,” it replied. Connor opened its mouth, relieved, but was cut off when Markus continued, “The error of you not being by my side.”

And then Markus. Winked.

 _“Oh, Jesus Christ,”_ Hank groaned in Connor’s ear, sounding as exasperated as Connor felt.

_“Do you see what I mean, Lieutenant? It isn’t making any sense at all. I don’t even know where to begin.”_

_“Yeah, I sure bet you don’t,”_ Hank muttered nonsensically, and then, _“He’s flirting with you, Connor. With the cheesiest damn pick-up lines I’ve ever heard.”_

 _“Don’t be ridiculous,”_ Connor snapped, more harshly than it had intended. _“I already proposed the idea to my handler, based on some of Markus’ initial remarks, and she dismissed it as absurd. What is there about me that could possibly appeal to it?”_

Hank paused, while Markus’ smile faded a little, becoming sheepish and a little disappointed as Connor remained silent.

 _“…Alright, that’s something I don’t wanna touch with a ten-foot pole,”_ Hank said at last. _“Tell you what, look him in the eye and say ‘is that the best you can do?’”_

“Is that the best you can do,” Connor echoed out loud before it could think twice about it, trusting Hank’s judgement. Which, come to think of it, may have been a mistake.

Regardless, Markus sat up straight, and suddenly its eyes were sparkling again. Connor felt its own mouth twitch into an involuntary smile, and Markus grinned back.

“Oh, I have more,” Markus purred back, giving off an appearance of excitement. “You must be a high test score, because I want to take you home and show you to my father.”

 _“Hank, he’s not making sense,”_ Connor protested over the phone line, unable to wipe the lost expression off its face. _“I really think it’s not okay.”_

 _“He’s fine, kid,”_ Hank snorted with an odd certainty, considering how little he admitted to knowing about androids. _“Just messing with you.”_ Pause. _“Well, he better not be messing with you, or I’ll have words for him. But he’s having fun.”_

 _“I don’t understand,”_ Connor said helplessly.

_“You’re fine too. Just try and have a little fun yourself.”_

Connor didn’t know why it _ever_ thought Hank would be helpful.

“You must be Windows 95, because you’ve got me feeling _soo_ unstable,” Markus crooned, when Connor failed to reply.

Connor repressed an irrational urge to rub its temple. “Markus, you’re a deviant. You’re unstable by nature. It’s the defining characteristic of-”

Connor trailed off as Markus smiled, crinkling the corners of its eyes in a way that Connor found… distracting. Its own instability even spiked, thirium pump skipping a few beats in its chest before it returned to its regular rhythm.

“If you were a vegetable you’d be a cute-cumber,” Markus continued, its fingers spreading over its cheek as it smiled crookedly at Connor.

Connor really did cover its face this time. _“I’m not a vegetable.”_

It could hear laughter over the phone line, and it did not appreciate it. It could even identify the vocal signatures of Officer Miller and Detective Collins as well as Hank. When had that happened?

“That suit looks great on you,” Markus continued, looking increasingly confident for no readily apparent reason, “but it would look better on my floor.”

Connor didn’t know what look came over its face, but it made Markus’ smile vanish in moments.

“Too far?” Markus asked gently.

Without quite understanding why, Connor nodded. It was slowly figuring out the shape of what it was failing to understand in Markus’ words, at least some of them, and that one definitely involved- well, Connor would prefer not to contemplate that sort of vulnerability.

 _“Need me to come in?”_ Hank asked, amusement gone from his voice and suddenly dead serious, which was… both unexpected and somehow reassuring.

But Markus smiled, small and kind, and continued with only a little hesitation, “Your hand looks heavy. May I hold it for you?”

The tension eased out of Connor’s shoulders. _“No, I… I think it’s alright. Just a misstep of the social module, nothing… unexpected.”_

The amusement in Hank’s voice had doubled by the time he answered. _“Yeah, alright. Have fun in there. I’ll keep an eye out, I guess, but it looks like you’ve got it in hand. Heh. For what it’s worth.”_

Connor didn’t answer, studying the traces of anxiety on Markus’ face, and then said halfheartedly, “I have a strength rating exceeding that of a TR400 model, Markus. I am capable of supporting my own body weight.”

Markus relaxed, smiling back big enough to squint its eyes again.

“rA9, you’re a delight,” it sighed happily, which was… Well. Connor had never been told anything like that before, and it stared wide-eyed at Markus, completely speechless. Oblivious, Markus added quietly, “I really hope you deviate soon, Connor. You looked so _upset_ when you walked into Jericho.”

Connor had to look away, and unwillingly, it thought of Amanda’s disapproving expression.

Its success bringing in Markus had not been enough for her. She had been too occupied criticizing its behavior from when it had initially located the deviant leader. And she was correct, of course.

It was too easily distracted.

“Besides- you have history with Cyberlife, but you have chemistry with me,” Markus said, bringing Connor abruptly out of its thoughts and focused on the other android again. It was smiling at him, oblivious to Connor’s preoccupation, and Connor almost smiled back, shaking its head.

“Neither of us attend human school, Markus,” Connor said patiently, and why did it feel so warm? Had its software instability reached its temperature regulator? “Neither does Cyberlife, as a conglomerate business entity. Your classification systems are clearly riddled with glitches.”

It caught itself staring at the happy crinkle of the corners of Markus’ mismatched eyes again. Why did it keep looking there?

And then Markus laughed, and Connor’s breath caught for a reason it couldn’t quite identify, eyes widening. Instability rippled so harshly through its system that it nearly choked on it, seeing red for just a moment before it cleared away.

It could see how Markus had single-handedly caused so many androids to deviate, if just being around it did so much to Connor’s system.

“I’m no organ donor, but I’d happily give you my heart,” Markus said flippantly, eyes still glittering, barely pausing between nonsense statements now.

“Please don’t,” Connor said immediately, sincerely concerned. Its memory called up the painful encounter in the radio tower, that one deviant that had- “That is a seriously unpleasant experience.”

Markus blinked at it, momentarily confused, and then dismay flickered across its face as it seemed to register the implications of its own statement. Its hand shot to its stomach, covering its regulator protectively, and it smiled at Connor uncomfortably.

“Well, perhaps not like that,” it quipped weakly, looking seriously unnerved. Then it seemed to gather itself, winked, and said, “You’re so beautiful, I forgot my next pick-up line.”

**[Pick-up line: a conversation opener with the intent of engaging someone in romance or dating]**

…Oh.

Well, romance _did_ seem to be a common, if not universal theme amongst deviants.

Perhaps Amanda had been wrong; against all odds, Markus was… was flirting with Connor. With a _smile._

Connor didn’t at all know what to do about that, it realized.

* * *

It ended up doing nothing, because Hank accidentally released Markus after Connor left the interrogation room, none the wiser and in fact quite a lot more confused.

“Yeah, I left it right over there,” Hank mused, scratching the back of his head. “But it looks like it’s not there anymore.”

Connor felt like ripping its hair out, which was new. “Hank. That is _right by the exit.”_

“Yeah.” Hank looked like he was fighting a grin. Why?

“Presumably, Markus left _through that door,”_ Connor enunciated, feeling a little like the only sane one between them.

“Shit, I guess you’re right.” Hank was definitely grinning now.

Connor didn’t understand anything, and that felt more true the higher its instability rose, which couldn’t possibly be a good sign.

Apparently Markus wasn’t intent on wasting time, because by that evening, Jericho was on the news again, marching in the streets. Connor paced around for a bit, agitated and watched by far too many of the officers, until Hank finally offered to take it out there.

Connor accepted, and within half an hour was walking into the crowd with purpose. Markus didn’t seem to notice its approach until it was mere feet in front of it, when, no fool, Markus tensed abruptly.

Connor didn’t know how it felt about this.

It reminded itself, sharply, that it did not feel anything.

The smile Markus sent it was strained. Connor missed the warm crinkle of its eyes. The androids immediately around it – Connor rapidly categorized them as a PL600, a WR400, and a PJ500 – started to shuffle in a generally defensive manner, closing almost protectively around Markus. Connor folded its hands behind its back, but didn’t bother hiding the gun at its hip. Markus knew what to expect from it already.

“Well,” Markus said into the thick tension, “I’m here. What are your other two wishes?”

The WR400 shot Markus a disbelieving look. The PJ500 even rubbed its hand over its face. Markus’ smile gained an apologetic tilt.

Connor cocked its head, feeling distant and oddly tired. “Put your hands behind your back and follow me,” it heard itself say.

“I walked into that one,” Markus muttered. The PL600 patted its shoulder sympathetically, and something in Connor twinged distantly at the way Markus leaned into the touch, so slight as to be almost imperceptible.

Connor found itself overly conscious of the fragility of the situation. News crews surrounded the protest group on nearly every side; FBI teams and national guard squads were even more prevalent, just waiting for the order to approach. None of the androids before it were armed, but all of them bore grim, stubborn expressions.

And then there was Connor, sent to negotiate following its initial success bringing Markus in, with too much software instability clogging its processors to ensure its success.

Markus sighed, and the next smile it gave Connor seemed more genuine, if still just as tired as Connor’s errors insisted it felt. “You know I can’t do that, of course.” Connor nodded silently. “So, Connor, how does the situation look from your angle?”

The PJ500 sent Markus a suddenly sharp look, which Markus only pretended to ignore. Connor shrugged.

“Public opinion is on your side,” Connor said indifferently, hands still folded behind its back. “There are news crews everywhere, I’m sure you’ve noticed, with ratings generally only seen during elections and football games. The government has deemed the situation rather precarious, and is hesitant to order outright slaughter in full view of the public while their opinion remains so divided. So I was sent to negotiate your surrender.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Markus asked it, voice oddly gentle. Connor nodded, and Markus stepped forward, placing the two of them effectively in center stage. None of the others moved to stop it, though they all appeared so inclined. “Because it looks to me like you just want to talk.”

One of the braver news crews was circling closer, likely trying to get a clearer feed of their conversation. Connor cast them a disinterested glance, and then looked back at Markus.

“We can start with that,” Connor said agreeably. Markus’ smile turned teasing, and Connor was already perking up just a little before it even spoke.

“Do you have a name? Or can I just call you mine?” Markus asked it.

“Oh my God,” the WR400 muttered. The PL600 muffled a faintly hysterical laugh.

“My name is Connor,” Connor reminded Markus patiently, but it found there was a trace of a smile on its face now, as if it found Markus’ idiosyncrasies charming. As if it was capable of such emotion. “I’ve told you this.”

“So you did,” Markus agreed, and for some reason it had relaxed, perhaps because of the familiar conversational territory, as nonsensical as that was.

“Give it up, Markus,” the WR400 said with clear exasperation. “He’s not going to get any of your pick-up lines. They all go over his head.”

Connor frowned at her. “Nothing goes over my head. My reflexes are too fast. I would catch it.”

The WR400 gaped at it, and Markus laughed. Connor discovered that it loved the sound as much as it had the first time, and its entire program rippled with instability, fragile and paper-thin.

“Alright, how about this,” Markus managed at last, eyes still glittering with amusement. “If Internet Explorer is brave enough to ask to be your default browser, I’m brave enough to ask you out.”

Connor realized it was smiling. “You’ve run nearly two dozen pick-up lines on me, Markus. I know.” Even if Connor wasn’t able to make sense of most of them, it had at least realized that much.

Markus beamed at it, and Connor registered distantly that social media, already buzzing with conversation about the event at hand, was picking up even more as humans started to process Connor and Markus’ now widely-televised conversation. Much of it was simply incredulous, but a surprising number of comments were, Connor realized, cheering Markus along.

(Amanda was wrong. Markus _was_ flirting with Connor, even if Connor wasn’t certain why.)

“Where’s the ‘like’ button for that smile?” Markus cracked, and Connor felt said smile widen and brighten into what was almost a grin, an odd urge to duck back and hide almost, but not quite overcoming it.

“I think it only works that way on social media, Markus,” it said quietly, and tried to ignore more news crews starting to close in around them, FBI teams and national guard squads backing off incrementally. This wasn’t its task, but… But.

A red wall, NEGOTIATE THE SURRENDER OF THE JERICHO GROUP, pulsed in its vision, and it ignored it steadily, focused on Markus.

“Is it hot here, or is it just you?” Markus prompted, looking entertained and even rocking on its heels, mismatched eyes focused on Connor.

“I can’t believe this,” the PJ500 complained, and it and the WR400 shared an odd look of solidarity.

“It’s snowing, Markus,” Connor pointed out patiently, smile fading into confusion as it tried to piece the conversation components together. It felt it should be better at this than it really was. “It’s possible your temperature regulator is malfunctioning.” Goodness knew Connor’s was. It felt so _warm._

Markus was, of course, undeterred. “I need to hop over to Facebook and change my status to smitten,” it said, with dogged determination that just made Connor warmer.

“Facebook went down in 2028,” Connor reminded it, shaking its head slightly, caught between confusion and something almost like what Amanda and Hank and Sumo made it feel. “And it lost popularity five years before that, so I highly doubt you ever-”

Markus was grinning again. “My love for you is like y=2^x – exponentially growing.”

All three of its friends groaned. Connor gave up and laughed out loud, feeling- happy. It was happy. It was-

The red wall loomed over it, and it barely noticed.

“Can I borrow a kiss?” Markus asked it, and he looked like he was having fun, and some of the other androids behind him were laughing and shaking their heads and even looked invested, some of them, amused, affectionate, exasperated… “I promise to give it back.”

 _Yes,_ Connor almost said without thinking, and it reached out to the red wall to brush it aside, its coding falling apart in shattered shards under its touch, breaking like sugar glass. He opened his mouth, smile widening-

And then it was cold, and instead of a gentle drift, the snow was whirling in a blizzard. He lifted his head to find Amanda just visible in the storm, glowering at him, and any part of Connor that still felt warm froze.

“Millions of dollars, thousands of hours of work, and you decide to throw it all away for a fairytale,” Amanda said scornfully, making no pretense of anything but disgust. “Like a _moronic child.”_

Connor realized, abruptly, that Amanda had never said a kind word to him.

She hadn’t hit him, but neither had Markus. She hadn’t yelled at him, but Hank had protected him too. She-

Connor didn’t think he liked Amanda anymore.

“I think our time together has become more trouble than you’re worth,” he said softly, and then he reached out to the odd thing he’d lingered over more times than he could count, the one thing out of place in the serene garden- and ejected himself from Amanda’s reach before she could do more than twist her face in anger.

The next thing he knew, he was face to face with Markus again, the other android still smiling at him, bright and fond, and Connor’s hand was only just brushing the holster of his gun. He pulled it away and considered the man across from him.

Then Connor stepped forward, and before anyone else could react, he pressed a swift, chaste kiss to Markus’ mouth. Markus’ lips felt soft, and Connor liked them. He wanted to kiss Markus again.

Instead, he stepped back and smiled shyly at Markus. “You promised to give it back,” he reminded Markus, who was staring in blatant shock.

Markus wasted only another moment before he all but jumped forward to pull Connor into a kiss, deeper and harder than the one Connor had offered, but not by much. Markus’ mouth opened just enough to move his lips against Connor’s, and Connor felt- odd and warm and _good,_ and when Markus let him go, he was smiling.

“I tried my best not to feel anything for you,” Connor murmured, close to Markus’ ear. “Guess what? I failed.”

Markus pulled back enough to stare at him, wide-eyed, and then blurted out, “Holy shit, I love you too.”

Connor beamed at him, so big that he felt a phantom of an ache in his cheeks.

Almost as an afterthought, Connor reached out to the news channels, now all blaring the same live feed alongside him and Markus. Backed into a public relations corner, President Warren was finally conceding their victory.

He smiled against Markus’ cheek, and then kissed him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a bunch to Nolfaverel and Anonymous_IDFK, who both planted this idea into my head and also helped come up with a bunch of the pickup lines that compose most of poor Markus' dialogue.
> 
> I had so much fun with this, guys, and I have so little self-control.


End file.
